Faerie Tale Protection Agency
by silveredges
Summary: We all know the traditional tales we are told at bedtime hen we're little, but what happens when the characters have a little trouble forcing their happily-ever-afters? That's where the Faerie Tale Protection agency comes into play.
1. Chapter 1

I lean back in my chair, feet propped in front of me on my desk

I lean back in my chair, feet propped in front of me on my desk. The smoke-scented air freshener dangling in the corner. Its sickly sweet scent claws up into my nose, pressing clawing sensations into my nostrils making the hollow passages tickle. I'm really not a fan of smoke, but it seems to fitting. I worked so hard to get to the position of semi-seniority that to not abuse the privileges a little bit insulted my sense of correctness. I rest my neatly tented fingers on my stomach, eying the frayed edge of one of the nail buds, I would have to file them soon.

Outside my door the classic black lettering proclaims Faerie Tale Protection Agency: Classical Division. More importantly, to my mind, underneath this proud title is my name, in much newer paint I readily admit. I haven't even had my first assignment in this division yet-- well, unless you count the training every rookie goes through prior to promotion to solo fieldwork.

My first training incident was more mortifying then successful, it hadn't even been complex. I had been assigned a partner from my Faerie Tale Ethics class, an overlarge ignoramus named Freddy. The man was part giant and part leprechaun, you'd have thought the two would've averaged out…not so. Freddy stood above my five foot stocky sort of frame by a good several feet and his afro of neon red curls added another foot on top of that of height.

We were _supposed_ to have been convincing Repunzel that a few split ends were no reason to lock herself away in a tower. The troubles started when we got to said tower, it turned out, in a fit of hugely misplaced rage, Rapunzel had decided to brick herself inside. We faced a pretty quandary trying to figure out how to get myself and the giant leprechaun into the tower without any authors noticing. Petulant bunch of whining children, authors, never happy unless their stories run precisely so. I suppose I shouldn't be that harsh on them…they _are_ after all the reason I am currently gainfully employed in my current field.

ANYWAY, I finally convinced Freddy to hoist me into the air and sort of _toss_ me through the tower window. Our dear Repunzel, in a fit of economy, had decided to only lodge herself in a three story tower as compared to the usual six. Unfortuantely Freddy through me a _bit_ to hard.

I hit the stone floor with a smack, my head spinning. I was still trying to figure out how it was that bluebirds could be spinning above my head when we were in the middle of winter when a pretty, if rather hidden beneath a huge frizzy mess, face came into view.

"How _dare_ you fly up here!" the girl I took to be Rapunzel shrieked. "I come here to the wilds so to be alone so that I need never look upon another human who pities me, and you fly into my home like some sort of Fey Faerie."

I sat up slowly, the blue birds had subsided somewhat and I dug into my backpack looking for my Merlin's ALL Purpose Headache Remover: Now with New Fruit Flavor. I couldn't locate the stuff and settled for some aspirin.

"I don't know why people insist upon disturbing my peace, after all it isn't as if my story is half so important and that stuck up Sleeping Beauty's. Lord knows she prances around enough like she's all that and a bag of chips when she's not getting her twenty hours of required beauty sleep. Though I do suppose she needs it after her run-in with the FTPA last week…"

I stood up as Rapunzel continued, peeking out the window. Freddy gave me a great lopsided grin and a thumbs-up as he kept hiding behind a tree that was about a foot shorter then he was, not to mention noticeably less wide around. I turned back to the room, Rapunzel certainly wasn't one of those compulsively tidy princesses like Snow White I noted. A pile of dirty dishes awaited cleansing in the corner and a heap of dress skirts near concealed the door to what I took to be a closet.

"…some green-haired gremlin tried to convince her to save her first kiss for her prince charming. Years too late if you ask me. Just _what_ do you think you are doing?"

I sent Rapunzel my most charming smile, most likely it was more of a wince considering the painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. "Rope?" I inquired.

"Second shelf in the back." Rapunzel's brown eyes narrowed. I wondered if princesses went in for special training in order to look both vapid and menacing at the same time. "You're one of _them_, aren't you?"

"One of whom?" I asked sweetly, tying one end of the located rope around her bedpost, making sure it was anchored firmly before sending the other end down to Freddy. He _should_ be able to fit through the window, as long as he hadn't been sneaking the extra ho-ho's I knew he was partial to between classes again.

"Those FTPA fellows, oh I should've _known_ they'd send one of their officers after me. What'd they say, 'feed her a sedative and tell her prince to hurry it up?'"

"No, Marm," I said, voice somewhat strained as I leant my strength to the rope pulling Freddy up. "I'm just a rookie in training, this here walrus on the end of the rope is my partner Fredinklestine the third."

"A Walrus, really? Does he have a mustache? I've heard walruses with mustaches are quite magnificent." Rapunzel plopped herself down on the bed, her masses of hair floating into even more of a snarled mess, if that were possible. Just then Freddy popped his head into view of the window.

"Why, that's no walrus, I'd say it's just a rather overgrown leprechaun." Freddy tumbled into the room, causing dust to fall in from the cracks of the walls and the floor to buckle a bit. I could hear a few shingles coming off the roof.

Freddy stood up, stooped rather, and snapped the princess a spiffy sort of salute that succeeded in knocking over a precariously placed vase.

"Watch out!" Rapunzel snapped waspishly, the tiny toe of one foot tapping impatiently against the floorboards. I bent nearly double for a few minutes, breathing heavily. I briefly wondered if I didn't take enough aspirin. I could see a lovely shade of black forming across the back of my arm. Freddy had seated himself in the center of the floor and begun digging in my satchel for a rations bar.

"_Well?"_ Rapunzel demanded finally.

"Well?" I demanded, somewhat crossly as I carefully stood upright once more.

"What, they sent me two rookies without a plan? What a curse this hair has been too me!" the last was said as a shriek, which managed to divert Freddy's attention away from his food.

"Well, no, not entirely." I replied, "Freddy, dig out the stuff." Freddy, the good little lap dog, did. He removed bottle after bottle of hair care supplies, finishing up with Ganier Long and Strong conditioner. Rapunzel's eyes went wide with horror.

"Oh, no." she moaned.

"Oh, yes." I nodded, "Not dig out your hairbrushes so we can get cracking."

That brought on a loud serious of theatrical rants before I finally had Freddy sit on the royal princess's backside whilst I worked on her hair. The result was rather fine, I thought. Apparently others thought so too because no sooner did Rapunzel get rescued from the short stacked tower then she ditched her 'true love' the prince and became a hair model.

My pocket phone whirred, sending unpleasant vibrating sensations up my leg. I flipped open the cover, glancing at the name. Show Time.

-i--i--i--i--i--i--i--i--i--i-


	2. Chapter 2

ILITHYIA the ready

I stared across the desk at my boss, besides the fewer cigarette holes in the green moss carpeting and the lack of scratches on his overly polished desk the office could have mirrored my own. Chief Budur was nothing if not fair. Even his appearance made no concessions to any obvious heritage. He had tilted green eyes that could speak of faerie or human blood, tanned skin that could mark him as having hailed from somewhere near the equator or that he had a drop of gnomish blood in him. A straight sort of nose looked as if it had been broken once, but mended, and even his hair reflected the severity of his presence. It never strayed from its perfect part down the center, the neat white-gray color giving no clue as to his age, either a youthful elf or an aging human. A mustache so perfectly trimmed it looked like he used a ruler hung neatly over his upper lip. He looked like he belonged in a different department then dealing with runaway faerie tales; something that had to do with proper policy and correctness that was sorely lacking in our division. This probably meant he did have some fey blood in him, limiting his ability to advance upwards to a different department.

"Lith." Budur stated curtly, gesturing for me to have a seat. I did, propping my Elven-made shoes on the other low chair situated in front of the desk. Budur stared down at the slightly curled toes, one edge of his upper lip curling in distaste for my lack of military professionalism. Tough, I wasn't part of his or any government affiliation. FPTA's weren't strictly civilian, but the odd few of us drifted in who chose not to join the military but still be involved.

"Budur," I responded. I liked to see him wince when I addressed him solely by first name.

"I have a job for you." Surprise, surprise. Typically Chief didn't call us in unless he did.

"Is it more drudge work?" I asked insolently, pulling out my watered steel blade and picking under my nails with it, I pretended I wasn't as eager for an assignment as he was to drop it on me as I studied the blade. It was dwarf metal and good quality. Last week I had been assigned to assist with brownie relocation, rather annoying, really, one of the kids of the house had spotted the helpless brownie and assumed it was a doll. Brownies are very biddable creatures, constantly agreeing with whoever had the strongest will. The child had loved the concept of a doll that would obey its orders. I had had to dissuade the child of the brownie's doll-worthiness and been forced to assist a somewhat disgruntled creature out of a yellow polka-dotted dress. The child hadn't even noticed the brownie was male.

"Nope," I could tell Chief was a bit upset by that. He usually tried to save the bigger jobs for those with more experience. I perked up somewhat. If Budur were this hesitant to give me the task, then it must be good. Better then brownie detail anyway. "Something's wrong in the Glades."

"Ogres again?" I asked, the things were worse then giants, always cropping up in the springtime and trampling newly sprouted seedlings.

"No, no. Nothing violent. I rather hoped to send you, this situation might have need of your particular finesse."

"Exactly to what to do refer?" I demanded archly.

"Well…If you must know, the word is that you are particularly adept with the females…Now, I would think I would know better after the way you handled Rapunzel, not very chivalrous by the by, having Freddy sit on her like that," Chief glared at me and I smirked back unrepentantly. Some people just needed to be propelled along and I hadn't had the time to charm the Cousin It lookalike. Besides, what use was muscle brought along if you didn't use it at least once? "But the others insist you are the best when coddling of the female sensibilities is needed…"

I sat up suddenly, every fiber of my being on the alert.

"Excuse me?" Oh no he did not mean…

"I appears Cinderella is in need of a bit of help and her Faerie God-Mother is at a christening, so you are the best we've got to offer. You're portal leaves in two minutes."

"Don't I get a partner this go?" I demanded as Chief stood to guide me on my way.

Budur blinked, "I'm sorry, but even Freddy finds himself busy…I suppose you could take one of the paperwork gremlins…Or perhaps Sludge?" he paused thoughtfully, that would appeal to the efficient monster. A pencil-pushing gremlin indeed, all those spindly little creatures where good for was filling out paperwork and doing tax returns. Which reminded me I needed to have a quick chat with Suptnik, one who worked in the finances division of the FTPA, about my paycheck. Suptnik was one of the reasons the FTPA program had virtually unlimited funds. We actually made more money then we took in. This helped in those not-so-rare occurrences where the Faerie God-Parent didn't show up and one of our guys had to come in with a freshly made Parisian dress for some ball or another. Faeries where flighty creatures at best and the craziness of their spring schedules seemed to screw with their already pitiful ability to keep dates and times in order, not to mention storylines. Not a few of my classpeers had already been sent to fix one Faerie's mistake when she showed up at a garden opening and thinking it was a christening. They said the bush still cried when someone yelled at it. Sludge was even worse, not that I had anything against the fellow personally but anyone born part overgrown slug and part swamp monster just didn't belong out in the public eye. Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that his features, constantly changing due to new coats of slime that crossed his face, nauseated me.

"No thank you, I suppose I'll do this one on my on then."

"I thought you might see it my way." Chief huffed into his mustache. "Off with you now, before you're late."

"Of course, because who wouldn't want to be late to a meeting with an overwrought princess-to-be?" I muttered, grabbing my kit out of my room on the way to portal nine. It never hurt to be prepared; some useful brownie had already filled it with utensils that would hopefully be useful in my upcoming excursion. I paused a moment in the cafeteria to grab some coffee, Cinderella's problems always lasted late, and headed out.


	3. Chapter 3

The portal spat me out about two hundred meters from Cinderella's quaint little village that always to seemed to avoid naming in all the stories and so was just called "village". Two surprised but unfazed cows eyed me and I spent a moment giving them a rude gesture. I had landed in a particularly squishy part of the lawn. I looked down. Cowpies. Lovely.

I managed to scrape off the remnants of the cows' last few meals as I considered all the ways to marinate a steak on the way into the village. Elf-shoes, having that lovely quality of magic to them, didn't stain, but nothing short of a rinse cycle in my washer would get the compost scent out of them anytime soon. If Cinderella didn't like it she could deal with it, I decided and continued on.

It appeared we were in the part of the story where the distraught female runs out into the garden to weep about her dress being destroyed, for the sky had that pink cast females ooh-ed and ah-ed about at sunset. I turned into the first manor from which I heard weeping, figuring that must be it.

Sure enough, there was Cinderella, wracking up tears like there was no tomorrow, which there wouldn't be for this story if I didn't get it back on track I reminded myself, hitching my pack a little higher on my shoulder.

I stopped a few paces away, confused. She was weeping and in the garden, but she already had a magically beautiful dress and a waiting carriage stood off to the side. I could see the dog-cum-coachman lighting up a cigar. Something was not right, why wasn't she already gone?

Cinderella turned, eyes looking confused at my appearance, they were cornflower blue of course, the Grimms hadn't had that much imagination. Allright, what gave? She had to figure since she was still here that one of our boys would be on the way over. Surely I didn't look that strange?

I had ditched the green coveralls that was FTPA uniform in favor of a set of camouflage pants, still green so technically acceptable, and a leather bomber jacket, but I still wore the faded gray t-shirt with embroidery of FTPA along with our ditzy looking fairy mascot over the left breast bone.

"FTPA?" she demanded, having taken long enough to put two-and-two together?

"Yes, Ma'am." I responded readily, giving her the crooked grin I had been told was both roguish and charming by other females of my acquaintance. She visibly softened.

She settled herself on the stone bench conveniently located in the center of a cluster of trees. "Fix this." She ordered, pointing towards her shoe. The heel of one perfect glass slipper had already broken, hanging by what looked like a silver ribbon by I recognized as unicorn hair. I looked closer and realized, with a sinking sensation, that it was the left shoe. I had a replacement glass slipper for the right foot in my pack, but of course not the left foot. I would have to fill out paperwork tonight to be another left glass slipper in by morning.

I scowled, belatedly remembering I was supposed to be charming this one, before again fixing a smile on my face. How had she broken the shoe so quickly? Typically they lasted at least through the first dance. The sight of a second coachman wobbling a bit unsteadily muttering about " 'elping the lass into the 'car'age" quickly answered that question.

"Well, aren't you supposed to have a third one, just in case something like this happens?" I demanded, usually someone had the forethought to realize glass slippers aren't the best dancing shoes and provided a spare with the main character as well.

Cinderella sniffed disdainfully and gestured towards the still cursing coachman. "That bumbling fool crushed it when he lost his balance and fell over after he dropped me."

The Coachman turned indignant, coming over enough that I could smell brandy on his breath. I would have to report him, Triple F's (Faerie Fale Folk) weren't supposed to drink until off scene. " 'ey, now, t'es not fair. You'ern't apposed to wiggle."

"You had me by the shoulders, you oaf! Not the waist!" Cinderella responded, a scarlet sort of rage distorting her princess pale complexion. She looked like she was ready to do physical harm to the idiot drunk.

I quickly stepped between them, seizing the broken footwear, before the chit could upend the whole glass slipper upon the man's head, thereby both creating a need for another coachman I would be required to fill, and a yet another glass shoe.

I examined the shoe carefully, turning it this way and that before reaching into my pack and drawing out a roll of silver duct tape, naturally the duck with it complained.

"Hey! You can't duck-tape a glass slipper!" The Cinderella whined, tiny fists coming towards my head. I ducked and resolutely ripped off a piece of the stuff. I decided not to correct her mispronunciation of the tape's true name.

"I've never read that rule anywhere." I responded, again dodging, "I should know, too, considering I was compelled to memorize the whole blasted book while in training."

"But I have to loose that shoe!" she cried, trying again to stop me. I paused, the tape hanging limply in my hand.

"Why this one?" I asked warily, afraid the answer would create I problem I didn't know how to fix.

"I always loose my left shoe!" she responded, irately. I rolled my eyes. To my mind that was not a good reason.

"Then switch it up a bit. All you have to do is make sure you loose the right one tonight and we'll have a spare left at your place tomorrow morning for when your Stepmother smashes it."

I finished wrapped the silver tape around the heel, it didn't look too bad as long as you only looked at it from the front. If you looked at it from the back, well, it looked like someone had repaired a shoe with duct tape. I had done a fairly neat job, all things considered, I congratulated myself. Apparently Cinderella didn't agree for she again lapsed into tears. Loud, noisy, tears. Whatever had happened to princesses who locked themselves in towers and cried silently with tears of silver pearls or some such nonsense? Oh wait…I had seen Rapunzel two weeks ago. I guess some parts of faerie tales were just that, tales.

"You, you, you ruined it! Now the prince will never dance with me and I'll be left to tent my horrid stepsisters for the rest of existence!" Cinderella sobbed. I briefly considered arguing with her, but decided some good old fashioned cozening would be better. After all that skill had been what had gotten me into this sinkhole to start with, right?

I led her back over to the bench, helping her to sit as she sobbed dejectedly into my shirtfront. I restrained a sigh, salt water did strange things to gray.

"Hush, hush now." I crooned, carefully stroking her golden curls, again unoriginal, so as not to muss their perfect luster. When she quieted after a moment I lifted her face by use of a finger under her chin. She gave me a watery sort of look and I was afraid she was going to cry again. "My sweet, do you really think what you wear on your feet is going to make the slightest difference to your prince charming?" I asked her, my voice deceptively gentle. She seemed to be listening so I continued.

"This man is your true love, when he sees you walk through that open door his jaw is going to drop and his heart stop momentarily before it resumes beating just for you, only you. His eyes will be blinded at all the other beauties in the room, coming to focus on you, just you. Your face, your eyes, your smile." She gave me one of those, telling me my careful flattery was succeeding. "And who could blame him, you look radiant." Okay, maybe a trifle overzealous there, what she looked like was wet, but if the moonlight caught the tears just right it would look like she was giving off light. "Any man would be head over heels in love with you at such a sight. Do you really think he is going to notice your feet so long as he has your blushes to live for?" Was I doing it a bit too brown? She seemed to be soaking it up so I continued. "He would be a fool to look away from you for a moment. So long as you drop the right shoe instead of the left one no one will ever know and the story can go on as it should." I was careful to stress the right in the hopes that she would remember Budur wouldn't be pleased if mention of duct tape cropped up in his faerie tale book. As I recalled Cinderella was his niece's favorite. No pressure.

Just then a distant clock tower chimed nine, propelling her into motion. She stood up, "Well, what are we waiting for?" she caroled enthusiastically, returned to her princess-good-spirits, alighting into the carriage without assistance from the wobbly coachman.

The smoking one hastily put out his cigar and clambered into the front box. I pulled the drunk one to the side and forced some dark coffee from my thermos into his gullet. He refused at first but as he sobered he finished the cup before latching onto the back of the coach. I regretted having to part with my entire pot, but consoled myself that I had already drunk more then half the thermos before I gave it to him. I waved them off from the cover of the tree grove, my eyes searching for a Starbucks. No such luck, apparently when they said "quaint" they meant "without coffee, drive-throughs, or anything remotely smacking of civilization."

I heard odd noises coming from my pack, and I lowered it enough to peer inside. The duck had found the brandy I had nicked from the drunken man and finished it. My fine feathered friend was now singing very loudly and very off key. I supposed since I had taken its tape so unceremoniously I ought to let it enjoy itself and reslung the pack onto my shoulders. Hopefully it would pass out before I got close enough to the palace for anyone but me to hear the song. I think it was about cavorting mermaids, but with ducks' odd accents it was always hard to tell what they were saying so it could also have been about merchant whales, but that didn't make sense to me.

It was a long walk, but I wanted to make sure the soon to be besotted Cinderella left the proper shoe behind. If necessary I could waylay the prince long enough to switch the shoe out for the one in my pack. No one would construct the broken pieces to figure out that there where two right shoes. At least, I hoped not. If they did I hoped some other poor sap got stuck with figuring out how to fix it. I for one was not going to be up for it after staying out here past midnight and then filing the paperwork necessary for the rush delivery of a slipper by tomorrow. The duck hit a high note, causing a young child to wake up in one of the houses nearby and start crying. I quickly scuttled away before someone could blame me.


	4. Chapter 4

My pocket whirred, forcing me to have to stand in order to answer the phone. Cinderella had run off fairly convincingly, remembering to ditch the proper shoe in the meantime. I was just waiting for the heartbroken, and yet seemingly dazed, looking prince to wander back into the ballroom to order the guards to follow the chit. I figured after they vamoosed I'd be able to get outta there without anyone noticing my snoring pack, the duck was surprisingly loud.

"Representative Lith?" the voice croaked, giving me Goosebumps down my exhausted and pained neck. It figured Chief would have a gremlin check up on me, they were the night creatures back at headquarters. The darkness of night hid their spindly legs, if you asked me.

"Yes?" I demanded, impatience leaking into my tone.

"Are you done?" the gremlin's voice creaked, he sounded amused by my tiredness. Lord save me from night owls. I knew that voice.

"Bolslav?" I demanded. He chuckled and I bit back a cuss. The little rat had probably purposely assigned me to this detail. He just couldn't get over the fact that his freshman year girlfriend had dumped him for me. Who could blame her, though? "I'll be done soon." I hissed, ducking down a bit further into the bush so as to avoid the sight of the horsemen thundering past.

"Good, head to portal five when you're done."

"WHAT?" I snapped, "Maybe you need to check your charts again, buddy boy, but I've already clocked my hours for the day…"

Bolslav cut me off, "The others have clocked longer hours then you already tonight, besides, you're the closest."

With that the line went dead.

"Damn." I groaned, hefting the pack back on my back and glancing down at the readout on my cell, close to one. I'd be dipped if I was going to let Bolslav get away with treating me like that. It wasn't my fault I had been born with dark wavy locks and he, well, looking like the gremlin he was. I left the palace grounds at a swift trot, anything less then that and I'd be asleep on my feet in no time. I reached portal five in no time, but my knees were protesting moving and I hoped wherever I popped out I wouldn't have to go far.

I found myself inside a book-lined room about ten minutes later, still feeling the effects of portal vertigo. That happened when one didn't have enough caffeine in his system. I seemed to be alone, so I began perusing the selection. I had found a rather amusing collection of Garfield comics when my solitude was interrupted.

A rather hairy fellow entered the room. He was large and shaggy looking, really, but his fangs and claws pristine and neat at least, you had to respect a monster the size of a small BMW that could gut you in two who kept his nails clean and practiced proper dental hygiene. A satin ribbon tied back the scruff from his face, and yet, the hazy understanding of how his appearance was vaguely menacing to a poor maiden locked up in a castle due to her father's crimes came to my mind.

"Monsieur Beast, I take it?" I queried, careful to keep my tone polite. Was the creature seriously wearing a cranberry hued smoking jacket?

"Indeed." The 'monster' snorted, "But if you could refer to me as Harry I would appreciate it."

"Harry?" I choked, suspecting him of humor.

He gave he a baleful glare out of yellowed eyes, "Harold Thais III, if you must know."

"Ah," I nodded, not a joke then. I spotted a large leather wing backed chair nearby and plopped myself into it, tucking my ankles neatly in front of me and glowering at them. Harry-the-Beast padded over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a snuffer of wine.

"Would you like some?" He offered, politely.

"Nah," I replied, wishing for a red-bull. "On-duty and all that."

We were silent for a few moments as he settled himself on the hearthrug in front of the fire, shaggy head resting on his paws. "I really do appreciate you coming at such a late hour." Harry growled politely, lapping at his drink.

"Oh, no problem." I muttered, mentally cursing all things gremlin and management. "Perhaps you could tell me what your problem seems to be?" I asked, somewhat hesitantly, tapping my fingers along the edge of the leather upholstery in an upbeat tempo meant to keep me from staring at the fangs on my new friend Harry.

Harry sighed deeply, warm breath rustling the papers throughout the room. "I am afraid I require a spot of advice."

I perked up a bit at this. Advice I could do. Usually advice didn't involve moving.

"I am rather worried about this girl, you see."

"Oh, really?" I asked, pretending like I hadn't read the story a dozen times in my childhood, let alone based my master's thesis on it.

"Truly." Harry replied, big head lounging as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. "She really is rather lovely, but I find I have trouble getting her to stick around long enough to hear me out."

"I don't suppose you've already declared your deep and abiding affection for her, have you?" I asked, thumbs twiddling.

The Beast shot me a look. "And if I have?"

My feet hit the floor with a thud. "Well, there's your problem, my friend. You can't just expect a girl you coerced into living with you to be thrilled with you laying your heart at her feet so quickly. It makes her feel unappreciated, you see. Females require you to fall in love with them for specific reasons, not just their femininity."

"Ah." The beats seemed to digest that for a moment, as well as whatever horse it had taken to fill his huge stomach. "How would you suggest I go about fixing things?"

"Have you tried just talking?" The beast started to answer, but I cut him off, "I mean, talking when you aren't declaring your deep and abiding adoration?" Harry's mouth shut closed. "I thought so."

I stood up, beginning to search the room. I overturned a vase before replacing it and checking behind a large tapestry of a young boy.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Harry demanded, sounding irritated.

"Searching for the portal-start-button-thingy." I replied somewhat crossly, forgetting for a moment that I was speaking to a creature with the potential of disemboweling me. "There has to be a way out of here without having to hike all the way back to Glades."

Harry leapt across the room to waylay me. My heart about burst through my chest at the sight of him so close. "You can't leave, not yet. I haven't made Belle love me yet."

"Sorry, bud." I replied, shifting to give us some distance as I continued my search. "But I have no intention of sticking around long enough for that. A man needs sleep, you know." At the dejected look on the Harry's face I gave in a little, "Listen, if the talking thing doesn't work out you can give me a call, just phone the FTPA and ask for Lith's extension."

Harry's huge hairy face seemed a bit more appeased by that. "Very well. The portal's opening is behind the Rembrandt."

I quickly located the switch and flicked it, having just enough time to spot a female figure in the library doorway before being spun off to my office. If Harry was lucky he could convince that Belle chick to listen to him long enough for him to show her his Garfield collection. In my experience every female loved a guy who could make her laugh.

I stopped in the gremlin offices long enough to leave them something squishy in Bolslav's inbox from the cow fields before heading off to home, and bed.


End file.
